Weird. This is just weird.

My Dad passed away last week. On October 15th, at about 10:40pm. The facts are simple, but the loss is so profound.

The details of how it happened don't really matter at the end of the day. He is gone. But I will say that I'm thankful for how it happened; he was at home until just a few hours before he "left" (as my Mom and I keep catching ourselves saying), he didn't suffer long, and he was so very, very ready to go. He told me the day before that he was "tired of living". And I knew that he was. And I'm thankful that he isn't tired anymore.

I know that for the rest of my life I will constantly be realizing what a huge part of ME he really was. And still is. The way I grew up and the strong presence that he was affects everything I still do. I will never put a wet towel on the floor. I will always un-ball my socks before I put them in the hamper. I will always break down cereal boxes before putting them in the trash. I will pull my plate over to me. I will think of goats every time someone says "kids" instead of "children". There is a right and a wrong way to do things, and I was never allowed to forget it.

He thought he would die years ago. I learned this week that a family friend of ours once told him, "Fred, I wish you would either do it or stop talking about it!" I have spent my whole life with this "someday it will happen" hanging over my head. I planned everything with the footnote of "depending on the situation with my Dad". So in a lot of ways, this is a relief and a release for me (and my Mom - oooooh the new-found freedom for my Mom!) to move onto the next chapter with a little more certainty about the timing of the future.

There is so much to process. I'm sure I will be processing for years. Last week I sat down a few times to try and write this, but it was just TOO MUCH. Too much emotion, too many memories, overflowing, spilling over, rising up in my chest and rumbling around in my tummy. I probably lost a lot of the raw emotions from the time immediately after, but I don't think we're supposed to stay in that space of the fresh wound for very long. Just like a physical wound, healing begins immediately. I'm thankful for the work that needs to be done immediately after a death - it is so helpful to have tasks to fill the time; going through pictures and writing an obituary and picking out an urn (or, in my Dad's case, not picking out an urn) are all exercises in celebrating the richness of the life that was, and processing the finality of the end.

I can't sum up an entire 91 year life in a blog post. I'm looking forward to the Memorial Service so I can hear some other peoples' stories and experiences.... I wish I had a fuller picture of him. But I do know that he loved my Mom and he loved me. I will carry that with me, and even when everything else falls away and the nuances of his personality are forgotten and life goes on, I will know that I was loved.